Because That is What Friends Do
by MistyLady
Summary: One Shot: Erik has to cope with being a friend to the first person he ever truly loved.


_A.N. For those of you who know me, I believe you know why I wrote this and who the story is really about. Transferring my troubles onto fictional characters seems to make things easier to deal with. I seem all about the one-shots lately. _

_Please review if the feeling moves you. I appreciate them. _

_Disclaimer: The characters are not mine...unfortunately, the main idea of the story is.

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Because That is What Friends Do

Erik checked his cell phone after returning home to find that he had two missed calls and one new voice mail message. Very few people had his number so he was curious to see who it was. Quickly, he punched in his voice mail code and sighed when he heard a female voice on the other end.

_"Hi, Erik. I'm just calling to see how you are doing and how things are going with your new contracting job. Umm, I guess I will talk to you later. Bye."_

He deleted the message and dropped wearily into the nearest chair. Why was she doing this? Christine was newly married for god sake! Why in the hell was she calling him?

It was almost a year since he had let her go off with Raoul. At the time, he resented that boy more than anything, but after seeing how well Raoul treated her and how happy Christine was, he no longer felt that burning loathing. He had kept a watchful eye on the pair for most of that year, itching for Raoul to do something awful so Erik could pounce on him, but it never happened.

Meg had moved to the other side of the country after receiving a principle role in a famous ballet company, and had lost touch with Christine. Since then, it seemed like Erik had become her confidant and pillar of support. He would politely listen to her talk excitedly about the new house she bought with money that her father had left for her in a trust fund, adjusting to life in a new place, and her relationship with Raoul.

There were times where she expressed uncertainty about her future with Raoul, but Erik reassured her that confusion was perfectly normal and things would work out for the best. He felt that it was his duty to be happy for her and make sure she knew how much he still cared about her.

He was the first one to officially hear about Christine and Raoul's engagement and offered his congratulations. It wasn't until a few hours later that it finally hit him. Christine was getting married. He had felt a sharp stab in his heart and felt as if that knife were twisting every time she called him up and mentioned it. When on the phone, he would put on a neutral front and listen to her, but after she hung up, he would mope around his apartment for hours. Christine was getting married and short of going down to her and whisking her away again, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He had received an invitation to their wedding; in fact, he had requested one. Maybe he was simply a glutton for punishment or liked the feeling of having his heart ripped out, but he felt as if he needed a piece of tangible evidence that he could hold in his hands to prove that this was not simply a nightmare. Christine expressed her yearning to have him attend, but he knew he would not go. Part of him wanted to support Christine- he could never tell her "no"- but he knew that no good would come from his attendance. It would only cause more pain and misery for him. He used the excuse that he could not get off from work (which was partially true) and could not afford the cost of transportation (not true since he had a rather large nest egg set aside for other purposes). Christine had believed him and understood. Time and time again he was on the verge of telling her yet again how much he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but something held him back every time. She was with the person she was meant to be with and Erik just had to accept that and move on. Moving on, he found, was a lot tougher than he thought because of his ongoing communication with Christine. He was her friend and...

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Sighing, he stood up from his chair and greeted the caller.

"Daroga, what do you want?" he asked darkly. He was in no mood for visitors.

"My dear Erik," the Persian man replied with a smile. "Is that any way to greet a guest?"

Erik remained in silence, not amused with this man's teasing. He cleared his throat and the Persian immediately knew that his masked friend was in one of his moods.

"She called again, didn't she?" he asked.

Erik bowed his head and let the man in. Carefully closing the door, he crossed back over to his chair. The Persian took a place on the couch.

"Are you her only friend?" he finally asked to break the silence.

Erik studied the dancing flames of his fireplace before replying quietly, "So it would seem."

"DAMNIT, Nadir! Why me? Why does she have to do this to me?" he ranted after a few minutes of silence. He stood up and began to pace in front of the fireplace. "I mean, I value her friendship and want to support her in every way I can, but why does she do this to me? Do you know when she got married? Less than a week ago. October 9th, to be exact. Shouldn't she and her new _husband_ be off on their honeymoon somewhere?"

Nadir sighed and shook his head before focusing on Erik.

"Maybe she just needs your support as a friend. She knows that she couldn't choose both of you so maybe this is her way of keeping you in her life."

Erik stopped pacing and placed his right hand on the mantel, next to the ring Christine had returned to him that terrible night over a year ago. He placed his left hand on his hip, his back turned to his guest.

"I suppose you're right, as usual."

"Are you going to call her back?" he inquired.

"Of course. I can deny that girl nothing," Erik sighed sadly.

Nadir moved over behind Erik and placed his hand on Erik's shoulder in support before letting himself out. Erik continued to stare into the flames for what felt like hours before picking up his cell phone from the end table and dialing the now-familiar number.

After the first several rings, he almost wished he could just leave her a message and be done with it. Just when he got his hopes up, Christine's voice sounded on the line.

_"Erik, hi!"_

"Uh, hello," he stammered for a second. "Sorry I, uh, missed your calls before. I was at dinner."

_"I see. So, how are things?"_ she asked brightly. Erik informed her on the latest news and goings-on. There weren't many so after a few moments of silence, he asked the question that he dreaded most.

"How did the wedding go?"

_"Oh, it was wonderful...perfect, actually_," she gushed, near breathless. He could picture her standing at the alter of an elaborately decorated church in a beautiful white gown. The problem with his vision was that the gown was the one he had made for her and he was standing in Raoul's stead.

_"...and the weather was perfect for the outdoor reception..."_ she continued on. _"I really wish you could have come."_

"I know, me too," he sighed. "But you know how things are."

_"Yeah,"_ she replied softly. Several long moments of awkward silence ensued before Erik cleared his throat.

"I'm really glad everything worked out alright for you two," he mustered up as much sincerity as he could. He meant every word of it, but was chocking back a sob as he spoke. "I wish you the best of luck in the future."

_"Thank you. I appreciate it."_

They said their good-byes and hung up. Erik finally left forth the sob he had fought back. He removed his mask and wiped the tears as they rolled down his face. Listening to her go on about the wedding, and even just hearing her voice, made Erik feel like he was being gutted alive with each passing phrase. He had been alone most of his life, but until this moment, he had never _felt_ so alone.

He poured himself a glass of brandy and lowered himself back into his chair. Noticing a white piece of paper on the end table and felt the familiar sting return to his eyes and a dull, empty ache in his heart. He grabbed the wedding invitation off of the table and pulled a pen out of his coat pocket. He read the fancy silver writing for the thousandth time before turning the invitation and writing in his own version of calligraphy:

_10.09.05, the day my music died._

He placed the invitation and pen back onto the table and sat alone in the glow of his fireplace.

_Why do you do this to yourself, Erik? All you have to do is tell her that you can't talk to her anymore and this perpetual torment will be gone._

"I know," he replied out loud. "But I cannot do that."

_Why not?_

"I have to support her. I have to be her friend."

_Why? Why, after the way she abandoned you and treated you? Why do you feel compelled to torture yourself like this?_

He sighed and took a swallow of brandy, the burning sensation traveling down his throat. His mind was lost in the entrancing flames.

"Because," he whispered at last. "That is was friends do for each other."


End file.
